My Roots in Australia, NZ, Scotland & England

Who was my Grandfather? Pt 2

Alexander Alfred Tyrie (1889-1979)

In the first part of this post, I described how I pieced together small pieces of information about my grandfather:

Alexander Alfred Jenkins who married my grandmother, Edith Henrietta Berriman, in 1927 was actually Alexander Alfred Tyrie, who came to Australia from New Zealand in 1925 using his mother’s maiden name as an alias.

Alfie, as we knew him, returned to New Zealand in 1929 supposedly to attend to family business with the promise he would return promptly to Australia. At that time my grandmother had an infant daughter and was pregnant with my father. He never returned.

It transpired Alfie had married Annie Wilson in New Zealand in 1921 and had a son with her in 1924. He left Annie in very similar circumstances to the way in which he left my grandmother. It now seems likely his return to New Zealand in 1929 was to file for divorce. 

It might be an impossible task, but I would like to know why Alfie behaved the way he did:

Did being the youngest child of a family of seven contribute? 

Does the five year gap between Alfie and his next youngest sibling indicate he was an unplanned, or unwanted, child? 

Alfie’s mother died when he was 18 years old. Did this affect him more deeply than his older siblings?

His father remarried two years later. What sort of relationship did he have with his stepmother? 

Does the fact that Alfie didn’t go into his father’s Dunedin plastering business like his brothers suggest he had a problematic relationship with his father? 

I don’t expect I can ever fully understand Alfie’s character, but I continue to find snippets of information that add colour and depth to my picture of him. Learning about our ancestors can often answer one question and pose two more:

On 29 September 1929 NSW Police issued an arrest warrant for desertion. The warrant was never served or actioned because Alfie was back in New Zealand at this time.

Edith would have been just pregnant with my father when Alfie deserted. At the fateful meeting after Edith’s death, my father asked Alfie why he wasn’t there for him during his childhood. Alfie’s defence was that he didn’t think he was the father of Edith’s child. Looking at photos of Alfie (left) and my father, with his mother and sister (right), I don’t think there is much doubt. Any possible doubt has been eliminated by recent DNA testing.

Electoral rolls for 1935 and 1938 show Alfie living at 23 Hobson Street, St Clair in Dunedin, a few doors away from his older brother William. He was working as a Warehouseman at this time. 

After the outbreak of WW2 in 1939, the 23rd (Canterbury-Otago) Battalion was formed as part of the 2nd New Zealand Division. Alfie enlisted in the 23 Canto but his war service didn’t last long. On 10 September 1941 Alfie is listed in the New Zealand Herald among the sick and wounded personnel returning home.

The next discovery was a curious one:

As discussed in Part 1 of this post, divorce proceedings between Alfie and his first wife, Annie, were commenced in 1932 but the marriage was not dissolved until 1946. By 1943, perhaps Alfie did believe he was divorced or maybe it was wishful thinking but irrespective of the state of his marriage to Annie, he was undeniably married to my grandmother in NSW.

On 12 December 1946 Alfie married for the fourth and final time to Mary Brown (nee McLaughlan). Mary’s first husband Arthur Arnold Brown had died in 1943 and her marriage to Alfie lasted five years until they were divorced in 1952. Mary’s third and final marriage was to Ralph Murray Holland (1914-1972). 

Mary died on 9 September 2015 at the venerable age of 96 years in Fitzgerald Hospital, Christchurch. Once again, I am frustrated that I learned of her marriage to Alfie after her passing. It is interesting that her death notice, published in Otago Daily Times, mentions Arthur Brown and Ralph Holland, but not Alfie Tyrie.

Alfie’s final years were spent at the original Montecillo Veterans Home. He died on 7 April 1979 at the age of 79 years and is buried at Andersons Bay Cemetery, Dunedin.

I now know most of the dates and facts relating to Alfie’s life but I feel his character and motivations are still much a mystery. It seems Alfie had a great need for companionship but wasn't prepared for the responsibilities of fatherhood. He was a gregarious and entertaining companion but he kept many secrets to himself.

Whatever the truth about Alfie, I can’t deny I carry a significant proportion of his DNA and I’ve passed it on to my children and grandchildren. 

Who Was My Grandfather? Pt 1

Alexander Alfred Tyrie (1899-1979)

Researching my father's father, Alexander Alfred Tyrie (known by our family as Alfie Jenkins), has been very frustrating. He played no part in my father’s upbringing; we knew precious little about other aspects of his life and I met him very briefly only once in his lifetime.

Alexander Alfred Tyrie was the youngest of the four boys and three girls of Alexander Tyrie Snr (1861-1951) and Jane Jenkins (1860-1917). Alfie was born in Bendigo, Victoria in 1899 but the family soon moved to Dunedin, NZ where he grew up. Alexander and Jane had married in Dunedin and had their first two children there, before moving to Bendigo where the other five were born. The Tyrie family traveled regularly between Australia and New Zealand as did many other families at this time (and still do today). 

Alfie Jenkins (using his mother’s maiden name as an alias) appeared on the far south coast of New South Wales in about 1925. He worked for the next few years on a number of farms around the Eurobodalla area owned by members of the Berriman family. On "Congo" farm at Bodalla, he gained a reputation for being a good and reliable worker. He was also known as a gregarious young bachelor, but we were to learn later this was not the case.

Alfie developed a relationship with the Turlinjah store post-mistress, my grandmother Edith Henrietta Berriman (1897-1962), and on 4 May 1927 they married at the local Coila Presbyterian Church. Alfie didn't disclose that he was already married in New Zealand and had a young family there.

Alfie’s first wife was Annie Porteous Wilson (1901-1975) and their child was David Alexander Tyrie (1924-1994). I would love to have spoken to Annie and David about their life with and without Alfie, but unfortunately they had both died before I knew of their existence. 

So far as I can determine, David never married and had no children. Annie married George Henry Brooks (1894-1962) in 1951 but they had no children, so that line is very much a brick wall in my research.

In 1928 Alfie and Edith had a daughter, Jacquiline Dawn Jenkins (1928-1993). In 1929, after the stillbirth of a second child, Ralph, but before my father was born on 4 April 1930, Alfie left Turlinjah to return to New Zealand on family business. He promised to return to Australia when his business dealings were concluded. 

This was the last anyone in our family saw of Alfie for about 30 years and my father almost never spoke to me about his father. Information gained recently indicates Alfie did not return to Annie & David in New Zealand, but lived alone. His divorce from Annie was heard in 1932 but the marriage was not dissolved until 1946. This becomes significant later in the story.

When Edith Jenkins died in 1962, James Berriman (a cousin of my father) traced Alfie through his war record to pass on the news. Dawn (my dad's sister) and James visited Alfie in Dunedin c.1965 and plans were made for him to visit Australia. This was done and Alfie came to our home in West Ryde. The reunion of my father and grandfather was not a successful one.

The Manly Mystery

George Henry Goodin (1828-1889)

My 2x great grandfather was a successful businessman with a large family when he disappeared in mysterious circumstances in 1889. Investigating George Goodin’s life has thrown up enough brick walls to build a citadel, and sometimes I feel he did it deliberately to frustrate us. Even the family name, which seems quite simple, has been alternatively spelt Gooden, Goodwin and Goode in various places. 

On Saturday 28 December 1889 a body was found floating in the water near Manly Wharf. South Coast timber merchant George Goodin was a missing person at the time, not having been since since leaving his accommodation at the Illawarra Hotel, Sydney three weeks earlier on 6 December 1889.

Mr Frank Walker, manager of the Illawarra Hotel, identified the body as “William Gooden” which appears to be the name George Goodin used to register at the hotel. Confirmation of his identity was provided by Mr Edward Edwards, a merchant seaman who knew George Goodin through business.

George Goodin’s son, James, had been in Sydney the previous week making enquiries about his father but had returned home to Moruya on Friday 27 December. Frank Walker contacted James Goodin to inform him of the tragic news. 

Frank Walker then returned to the morgue to begin making funeral arrangements and was told that the body had now been identified as George Cooper, a builder from Surry Hills, by his wife. Police had accepted the identification and released the body to Mrs Cooper.

This baffling mystery has never been solved and leaves us with so many questions about police diligence, identification procedures and criminal activity in Sydney.

The Illawarra was a modest hotel in Shelley Street, Sydney close to Erskine Street Wharf where the Goodin & Hicks steamer “Moses Fletcher” docked with its cargo of south coast timber and other goods. 

Early in December 1889 George Goodin returned to his preferred lodgings at the Illawarra Hotel to dispose of his latest shipload of timber. The timber market at this time was depressed and when he was unable to successfully complete his business negotiations, George then decided to return home to Moruya for Christmas.

On the morning of Friday, 6 December, George Goodin advised Frank Walker he would settle his account. Walker was unable to cash a cheque so George left the hotel and returned soon after with cash. Goodin informed Walker that a horse-drawn cab was engaged to take him to Redfern Station at 1pm and took an early lunch.

The cab failed to appear at the appointed time and it was necessary to hail another in the street. This caused George Goodin some annoyance, but he left the Illawarra Hotel in good spirits and assured Walker, “I’ll be back again shortly after Christmas.”

Frank Walker and the staff of the Illawarra Hotel expected George Goodin would soon be enjoying a pleasant family Christmas in Moruya. It was quite a surprise when, on Friday 20 December, George Goodin’s son, James, arrived at the Illawarra Hotel saying his father had not returned home. Frank Walker helped James Goodin search his usual haunts without success. After two days James Goodin filed a missing person report with the police.

James Goodin left Sydney on Friday 27 December after his futile search and in a cruel twist of fate, the body was found at Manly Beach the next day. If only James Goodin had been the one to identify the body, the Manly Mystery might have been solved 128 years ago.

A Sobraon Boy 

George Joseph Chandler (1886-1953)

Searching for George Chandler on Ancestry I came across a conviction for delinquent behaviour in 1900 when he was 13 years old. The warrant states, “He is habitually wandering about the streets in no ostensible lawful occupation”. 

The record goes on to say George’s character is “Bad” and that he has previously been before the magistrate and given a reprimand. It seems George was not attending school, engaging in anti-social activities with questionable company at all hours of the day and night.

What I didn’t understand was the title of this document; “Entrance Books for the Vernon and the Sobraon, 1867-1911″.

It turns out, before NSW had reform schools, wayward boys were removed from their families, housed on Nautical School Ships and taught elementary educational, nautical and industrial skills in an effort to turn them into worthy citizens. 

George Chandler was sent to the NSS Sobraon.

For 24 years, from 1866-1891, the Aberdeen built clipper ship “Sobraon” brought passengers from England to Australia in comfort and speed. But in 1891 she was bought by the NSW government and permanently moored near Cockatoo Island in Sydney Harbour. For the next twenty years the “Sobraon” would be a floating reformatory for delinquent boys.

The “Sobraon” replaced the “Vernon” and with it’s accommodation for more than 200 boys had more than three times the capacity of the “Vernon”. Over its twenty year life as a Nautical School Ship 4000 boys were trained on the “Sobraon”. Sobraon boys remained until they received sufficient skills to be apprenticed, join the navy or return to their families.

From the Entrance Book, George Chandler sounds like a hard case but after reading further almost all the boys had the identical description: 

“He is habitually wandering about the streets in no ostensible lawful occupation”

It seems to have been the particular wording used by police to encourage a magistrate to remove a troublesome boy from the streets. As a matter of fact, when George’s younger brother, Reginald, was also sent to the “Sobraon” his description was exactly the same.

The educational program provided aboard the “Sobraon” achieved impressive outcomes, particularly considering the poor level of literacy many of the boys brought with them. There is little doubt they had opportunities on the “Sobraon” that they couldn’t get in their home environment even considering class sizes of 60 or 70 students was the norm.

George Chandler’s life was not turned around unequivocally by his time on the “Sobraon”. He experienced many more ups and downs through the years:

George left the “Sobraon” to be apprenticed as a farm labourer to Michael Hanrahan at Robertson in the NSW southern Highlands.

In 1904, at 17 years old, he was returned to the “Sabraon” for absconding from his employer.

In 1912 George married Flora Westlake (a young widow with a 9 year old son). I can find no evidence George and Flora had children of their own.

George and Flora lived in Erskinville and George worked as a wharf labourer.

Police warrants were issued for George’s arrest in 1921 for violent conduct and malicious damage in their home, and on two occasions in 1922 for wife desertion.

In 1943 George was living without Flora in Glebe.

Murder in the Family

Arthur Coulton (1869-1889)

Finding lawbreakers or criminals in your family tree is an interesting experience. For many years finding a convict was something that could cause scandal, embarrassment or denial. It is now considered a genealogical rite of passage and having a First Fleeter is colonial royalty. 

But what if the crime was murder? I have often been amused by the subjects of WDYTYA whose first response is to leap to the defence of their ancestor and proclaim their innocence, that they are the victim of a miscarriage of justice or mistaken identity. They find it hard to admit that someone with their DNA could be a flawed individual who made some terrible decisions in their life.

It is one of the great traps of family research that we hope our ancestors have our values and act with impeccable moral judgement. It can be confronting to admit our forebears have human weaknesses, that they are a product of their environment, shaped by their upbringing and the times in which they lived. 

I had one such experience when I found this story on Trove:

The victim, John Patrick Keenahan (1853-1888), is my wife’s 1st cousin 4x removed. I had not known much about him before this discovery, but knew his father John Keenahan (1824-1895) had come to Australia from Kings County, Ireland as a young man and married Margaret Cunningham (my wife’s maiden name) in 1851 and raised a family of eleven children. John Keenahan Snr became a successful farmer in the Singleton area and is memorialised in a beautiful stained glass window in the Singleton Roman Catholic Church:

My next discovery on Trove provided some additional details about the murder:

It is mentioned in the report above that “the sympathy of the public is entirely with Coulton” but it didn’t prevent a verdict of manslaughter. While he was in prison a petition was collected for a pardon and his release:

In another twist of fate, that may or may not have contributed to his decision to kill John Keenahan, Arthur Coulton was suffering from consumption (tuberculosis) and died from it in Tamworth Gaol on 22 March 1889 after serving six months of his 34 month sentence. It seems he spent the whole time in the prison infirmary receiving treatment for his tuberculosis:

Murder is a tragedy for everyone involved but I cannot imagine how Margaret lived through this ordeal. Not only did she lose her husband and son within a few months, she was pregnant with John Keenahan’s child (David John Keenahan 1888-1943) while her daughter Elizabeth also carried his child. 

The tragedy did not end there:

Elizabeth’s baby to John Keenahan (William Coulton b.1888) did not survive his first year 

Elizabeth married David Burnet in 1898 and in 1901 had a son named Arthur William Coulton Burnet. Arthur Burnet died in 1919 at 18 years old. I do not yet know the circumstances of his death.

David John Keenahan, Margaret’s son to John Keenahan, lived to 55yo but lived a life of crime and had a number of stretches in gaol.

Return from the Dead

Arnold Mordaunt Talbot Berriman (1872-1923)

One of the more curious stories from my tree concerns a distant cousin who came to my attention when I found a newspaper story of his death in the San Francisco earthquake of 1906:

His death notice was published in the Barrier Miner on 25 June 1906:

The death of a loved one overseas would be devastating but when his brother travelled to America, presumably to repatriate the body, Harrold found Arnold was alive, although injured and recovering in hospital:

After a succession of shocks like this I would expect to see a fond family reunion in South Australia, but it seems Arnold stayed in America because the next document I found was a record of marriage to Ella Lucile Hurt in New Mexico, USA on 19 August 1908. The report of his marriage in the Albuquerque Citizen shows Arnold had changed his name to Talbot Arnold Berryman.

Talbot Berryman had an eventful World War 1 history. In 1914 he enlisted in the Canadian Overseas Expeditionary Force and served two years in France before being wounded and discharged. Interestingly, he has provided a date of birth four years younger than fact:

Surprisingly, in September 1918, Talbot was enlisting again; this time for the US Armed Forces. He is recorded as a naturalised American, with no relatives in the US (I don’t know what became of Ella). Once again he has provided an incorrect date of birth (this time one year older than it should be):

A Waterloo Veteran

Joseph James (1797-1852)

The last person on this line I would like to write about is my 3x great-grandfather and father of Mary James from my last post. Joseph James was baptised in Taunton, Somerset on 25 December 1797. He joined the army (40th Regiment of Foot) in 1811 at the age of 13. 

I haven’t seen Joseph’s military record (if such a thing exists from that time) but the regimental history indicates his first battle experience would have been the Peninsula War, during the Napoleonic Wars. In 1815 he was involved in the Battle of Waterloo. Many years later, as a publican in the Blue Mountains of NSW, he proudly displayed his Battle of Waterloo military medal behind the bar of the Welcome Inn, Valley Heights and no doubt told anyone who noticed it how he single-handedly defeated Napoleon. Joseph was discharged from the 40th Regiment of Foot due to injury on 20 October 1820. 

In 1825 Governor Lachlan Macquarie disbanded the NSW Rum Corps. It was decided that three new Veteran Companies would be raised for general policing duties as superintendents and overseers in NSW and Tasmania. Pay was generous, service was limited to two years and land grants were promised upon discharge. 

Married men were allowed to bring their families which would have been attractive to Joseph James as he had married Ann Bury/Berry/Buray in 1818. Joseph enlisted in the NSW 2nd Veteran Company Regiment of Foot on 9 January 1826 and he and Mary arrived in Sydney aboard the “Orpheus” on 12 September 1826.

I have few details of Joseph’s service in the 2nd Veteran Company other than he was garrisoned at Windsor Barracks for part of his service and he was not discharged until 30 September 1831 after five years service. 

Ann James had three children during Joseph’s time in the 2nd Veteran Company:

Alexander James (1826-1900)

Mary James (1829-1918) (my 2x great-grandmother)

William James (1831-1908)

After his discharge Joseph James worked on a farm called the Governors Arms, north of Parramatta, but did not receive his land grant until 1839. I don’t know all the circumstances of this delay, but it seems to tied up in public protests about common land being given as Veterans’ Allotments. Joseph’s allotment, Governors Arms, is shown on a modern map of the North Rocks area:

Joseph and Ann had another three children during the period they farmed at North Rocks:

Jane James (1833-1835

Jane James (1836-1875)

Joseph Samuel James (1840-1892)

Anecdotal records suggest the Field of Mars area was used by sly grog distillers. I have no firm evidence that Joseph James was involved but in 1843 he became licensee of the Pilgrim Inn at Blaxland on the Blue Mountains. This is where Mary James was born in 1929 so it is clear he had a long association with the lower Blue Mountains area. Three years later Joseph bought the Welcome Inn at Valley Heights where he worked until his death in 1852.

The three youngest James children were born while Joseph was publican of the Welcome Inn:

Jessie Elizabeth James (1844-1916)

Lydia James (b.1846)

Frances Mary James (1848-1852)

The First White Child Born on the Blue Mountains?

Mary James (1829-1918)

Mary James is my great-great grandmother (and the maternal grandmother of Hubert Simpson). She was born at the Pilgrim Inn, Blaxland in the Blue Mountains of NSW (before it was officially licensed as an inn). There is a family legend (unsubstantiated so far) that Mary was the first white child born on the Blue Mountains. Whether this is true or not, in 1829 the Blue Mountains was a string of farms, inns and staging posts along the Bathurst Road.

Mary’s father, Joseph James (1797-1852), was licensee of the Pilgrim Inn from 1843-1846 before buying the licence of the Woolpack Inn at Fitzgerald Valley (now called Valley Heights and 4 miles farther along the Bathurst Road) in 1846. Joseph renamed the Woolpack the Welcome Inn (which was also the name of the Pilgrim Inn while he was licensee).

Mary was married four times:

Samuel Taylor (1816-1851) on 25 Mar 1850 at St Mary's, NSW

Henry Bailey (1817-1860) on 19 Dec 1854 at St Andrew’s, Sydney

Joseph James Fitzpatrick (1811-c.1871) on 19 Mar 1863 at Forbes, NSW

Thomas Edward Moore (1835-1920) on 3 Jun 1873 at Mudgee, NSW

Mary died on 5 May 1918 at Wongarbon (near Dubbo), NSW at the age of 88. She was mother of four daughters:

Mary Ann Taylor (1851-1921)

Annie Bailey (b.1857)

Emily Fitzpatrick (1864-1948) (my great grandmother and Hubert Simpson’s mother)

Harriet Fitzpatrick (1868-1939)

Bill Simpson in his own words

I am very lucky to have Hubert’s Gallipoli diary and many letters he wrote home to my maternal grandmother (Rebie Emily Martin 1892-1940). They paint eloquent and detailed pictures of the people, places and emotional responses Bill experienced through the war.

Bill Simpson was educated at Redfern Superior Public School and worked as a clerk at the Sydney GPO prior to enlistment. His writing shows a well educated young man with a keen eye (and a bit of the casual racism of the time). 

What follows is a series of excerpts from his writings. The first describes a day’s leave when the AIF was training in Cairo. It is very similar to a scene in Peter Weir’s movie, “Gallipoli”:

We wandered round some more and as funds were getting low we decided to go home. So we hired a donkey each for ½ piastre per capita and like the man who travelled from Jerusalem to Jericho, we set out at a great bat up the street. Four of us, really eight including the four-footed ones, each pair striving to defeat or outdistance the others.

The (native) proprietors brought up in the rear belabouring our mounts with props or thereabout and beseeching us, “Don’t hit the donkey mister”. But our enthusiasm argued that considerable persuasion per medium of our parrot perches was highly necessary if anything like speed was to be maintained.

Anyhow we arrived home considerably after “lights out” in garrulous and giggling moods, our hilarity only slightly dampened by the anticipation of the blatant sound of reveille followed by the raucous voice of our Sergeant Major commanding us to, “Rise and shine”. Ah well! We have the consolation of knowing that it won’t last forever.

Sincerest regards

Hubert S. C. Simpson

Commonly “Bill” or “Sim”

The second extract comes from Hubert’s Gallipoli diary. He recounts the push on 2 May 1915 to attack the Turkish position at Baby 700. The 13th Battalion was responsible for securing Bloody Angle and the Turkish trenches of the Chessboard. Organisation and execution did not go according to plan:

Nearing the top we came upon an inferno sufficient to make you weep. Dead and wounded were lying everywhere. The roar of the machine guns and rifles was deafening, while the groans of the wounded were heartbreaking but there was no time to stop. Passed Will Pearce near the top and exchanged greetings. 

The ridge was swept by an incessant hail of bullets, and twas across this that our way lay. As we were nearing it a man who had been badly broken up, roared out, "Get into the blanks. They are playing hell up there”.

Reaching the top there was only one thing to do and that was throw one’s self down and wriggle across on one’s stomach, but half way across there was block. The whole of the ridge was covered with men lying prone on their faces and afraid to move, with the bullets whirling overhead and men being hit all around. 

I forgot to mention that each man carried a pick and shovel and while in the above described unenviable position the order came to pass them forward. It was a difficult matter to get the order carried out as most of the men would not answer when spoken to and few would move but we got them along somehow. 

On the surface a man on his hands and knees would get drilled in a second. As it was, my relief or digging mate, one Max Hannan was shot through the head as we were exchanging the shovel. The bullet entered behind the temple and embedded itself under the skin at the back of the head. Thought 'twas fatal but bandaged him up and he was able to get away to the rear safely and I was left to dig on my own, i.e. without any relief. 

Surprised myself by my resignation to what appeared inevitable. Could only see an imminent attack, which could only end disastrously to us and had my mind quite decided if the necessity arose, to save a bullet for myself and use it in preference to being taken a prisoner. 

This third excerpt is an abridged version of a passionate eulogy for Captain Basil G W Fletcher, Hubert’s best friend before and throughout WW1, who was killed at the Battle of Bullecourt:

France

April 25th 1917

(Anzac Day)

My dearest Reb,

That which became a possibility the day Bas and I went to Rosebery Park and enlisted, has happened. You have long since received the sad news. To you it was unexpected, to me, strange to say, it was perhaps more so.

His passing has upset all my dreams of the future, for I could never picture a homecoming and the subsequent “Day’s Work” without seeing Bas at my side. His loss is irreparable but he has left behind a glorious memory. 

I cannot in words express how keenly, how deeply, I feel for those he has left behind - the enormity of my own loss I cannot yet fully realise - but their’s is the greatest sorrow that mortals have to bear. It is the price of our mortality. But even through the gloom of sorrow there is brightness. He did his duty as man never did better. He lived a life that left him with nothing to reproach himself with and he has gone the way of gallant men and with gallant men.

I know Bas’ wishes in all things for we foresaw the possibility of the day when one or the other would be missing and we talked these things over during many a quiet half hour. Let us think of him as he was and the keen edge of our sorrow will be blunted and let us take comfort in the many pleasant recollections which the memory of our dearest pals so closely associated with and let us smile at those recollections just as he would wish. Perhaps, who knows, he may be smiling with us. And let us realise that these things which have happened, which are happening and which will happen (who knows what will happen?) are not whims of chance, but controlled and directed by Higher Hands than ours and must be for the best.

I have written to Mrs Fletcher by this mail. I know that you and the other girls will do what you can of comfort to all at Seivad.

Joining you in deepest sympathy and sorrow at our irreparable loss.

Fondly yours

Bill

A Credit to the Fighting Thirteenth

Hubert Sydney Centennial Simpson (1887-1918)

I know quite a bit about my great uncle, Hubert (Bill) Simpson, but I am now keen to put his personal story into the context of the 13th Battalion AIF and the whole Australian WW1 experience.

Like countless others, Bill’s story is a mixture of duty, courage, good luck, bad luck and serendipity. He survived Gallipoli when the odds were very much against him and he was killed in the First Battle of the Somme while escorting lost allied soldiers from the front line.

If there are scholars of the AIF, and the 13th Battalion in particular, I’d be delighted to hear from you.

Ian Jenkins

Over the next little while I will highlight some interesting individuals in my family tree. In most cases I have uncovered enough information to pique my interest, but I am now keen to flesh out their life, career, family or life circumstances. 

I would very much welcome additional information, leads or contacts so I can get to know these ancestors a little better.

Ian Jenkins